But as my bowstring scraped across my fingers, I realized that figure was her.
Would that I could chase down arrows, that I could command their will and intent as easily as I do living things.
But I could not. My arrow landed true—they always did. Still, I threw caution and crown to the wind; I threw it all away and went to her. My Nyx took a dozen enemy arrows in our reckless flight, and soon we were falling, falling, like a star cast down from the heavens.
As I held my dying sister, the battle raging around us and my cursed arrow embedded in her heart, I wanted to die too.
It would have been easier. Sweeter. But she would not let me.
She pressed my blood-spattered hand to her swollen belly, and I felt the heartbeat within.
Your heartbeat, xe Nyka.
I must live, she said, because she could not.
She asked too much. My phoenix was mortally wounded, and her fire burned hot all around us. Blazingly, blisteringly hot.
She asked too much.
The shock of Pheronia’s wound caused her labor to begin early. She was carried to safety so they could try to save the child, though it was too late for Pheronia. They left me to die. I do not blame them.
I felt it, the moment she left this world. I heard her last screams, and as the fire of my bondmate licked across my skin, scorching my flesh, I heard another sound—the wails of a newborn child.
I died, too, but that was not the end. It was the beginning. Our beginning.
I came back. For you, Veronyka.
We were born together, you and I.
False Sisters.
Shadow Twins.
I promised Pheronia I would protect you. It was her dying wish.
I told her I would make things right.
And I’ve only just begun.